BUILDING BLUEPRINT
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Lyrical Analysis of...
POEM -
- Do you ever get this overwhelming and simply obscure feeling
- That you actually might be slowly losing your grip on reality
- Reading between the lines with heavy breathing
- Unsure if your thoughts come from actual logic or disguised insanity
- It’s a tragedy and it’s as though my thoughts no longer have real meaning
- It’s agony and it’s demeaning… reality it is escaping me
- It’s erasing me waiting patiently for a chance to relate to me but well, maybe
- That will never come, when i am basically an astounding example
- Of an amazingly unique waste of fucking space, you see.
- It’s like now I can’t actually tell if it’s paranoia or just a really spot on instinct
- That line for me has become very fucking blurred after each trauma that’s occurred
- This isn’t unheard of, it’s a trauma response that makes your perception seem absurd
- But it’s because we can’t decide which is actually right, to let it go or have some words
- Because making the wrong choice ends up with everybody hurt.
- And then you end up being told you’ve made it worse, made something out of nothing
- In fact you’ve actually really overreacted and granted an explosive response can be automatic
- I can get erratic, to tell you “fuck off” is classic, said without thinking first
- Full of panic and probably a little bit manic which feels normal to me after these toxic dynamics
- But im also not delusional, although sometimes I wish I was, im actually very self aware
- Which is why im able to share how I feel pain, feel weak, feel scared
- And im always prepared to respect when im wrong and show again that i care
- Which sometimes doesn’t feel fair because when ive been hurt there’s not someone there
- To insist it wasn’t deserved and when they think of me they love so much that they wouldn’t dare
- Being self aware is shit because I see destructive behaviour unravelling and I can’t even stop
- It’s like I forgot how to be human as if for a century I’ve been underground in a box
- Covered in locks, above me is 6 foot of earth and heavy rocks, and the time never stopped,
- On goes the clocks… and then someone drops a bomb just to thicken the plot
- And a century later I am alive suddenly free from the box, being told to be calm
- And be grateful to god? I’m not grateful for this life,
- it was never something to be wanted, just something to survive.
- So when I die it’ll be the most poetic goodbye you’ve ever felt in your life.
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